The Queen
by A.R. Darcangelo
Summary: One-shots following the lives of America and Maxon Schreave. Based on the novel "The One" by Kiera Cass.
1. The Honeymoon

**Selection Readers!**

**I think by now most of you have read The One - if you haven't, don't read this collection of one-shots! There will definitely be spoilers. Also, I decided to do one-shots based off Kiera Cass' story. I have my own version of The One that I wrote before the book came out, but because her story is the one that really stuck with me, I decided it was the story I would base my one-shots off of. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**A.R. Darcangelo**

The Queen

One-Shot: The Wedding Night

True to his promise, Maxon took me somewhere outside of the palace for our honeymoon. A blush ran up my neck and cheeks as I recalled what we were doing when he had made me that promise. I would have been happy to have my "wedding night" then and there, but I knew it was important to Maxon that our first time together like that was special.

As it turned out, I was so glad that we had decided to wait until after we were married. It gave me a sense of security – we were going to be together, and there was nothing holding us back – no fear, no worry, no one else – it was just the two of us, allowed to love one another without reservations.

Maxon played with my hair as the plane started its descent back towards the earth. We had left Angeles about five hours ago, around midnight when all the festivities had ended. Even though we'd had an early afternoon wedding, the celebration had gone on for hours. I had stayed in Maxon's arms all night long, except for the few dances that he had offered my mom and my sister.

I missed my dad the most, although there were others that I wished had been there. Aspen hadn't taken his place for the father-daughter dance like he had when he'd walked me down the aisle – Maxon danced with May during that one as I watched on, my arms wrapped around my mom.

As Maxon squeezed me a little tighter, I stretched my neck up to kiss him. He kissed me slowly, his hand cupping my cheek.

"Are you tired?" he asked softly.

I had slept most of the plane ride, so I was pretty alert. I hoped he had slept as well as I did. "Not really."

"Me neither." He continued playing with my hair then, his eyes searching mine.

A guard approached us. "Your Majesty, we'll be landing within ten minutes. A car should be there waiting for you and the queen."

"Thank you," Maxon said, not taking his eyes off mine. I heard the guard shuffle away.

It was so odd – I was the queen of Illéa. I was ruling by Maxon's side. And already, the country was changing and the people were happy. I could see it as we visited the provinces outside the palace – with about a hundred guards.

A large percentage of the Southern Rebels had been killed during the attack at the palace. The Northern Rebels were all given places of high rank in either the military or the palace as one of Maxon's advisors. August was one of his closest advisors now actually – and Georgia was my personal secretary. The only thing I wanted more than my dad or all my maids to help me as a queen was Queen Amberly herself. The thought brought tears to my eyes.

"What's wrong, darling?" Maxon whispered anxiously.

"Nothing," I whispered back, not wanting to remind him of his mother while we were on our honeymoon.

"No, please, tell me," he begged. His eyes studied my face, his hand stroking my cheek.

I swallowed. "I was just thinking about your mom. I miss her. I could use her help."

His eyes grew soft. "I do, too. I think she would have been a great help to both of us." He kissed my forehead. "But don't be sad. I know she is looking down on us right now – and she is so proud of all that you have accomplished."

I raised an eyebrow. "You think so, huh?"

"I know so." He grinned at me. "She always liked you best you know, even if she never said it out loud. She was always rooting for you."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure."

"It's true!" he promised.

I felt the plane dip a little as it lowered toward the ground. "I can't wait till we get off this plane. Where did you say we were going again?"

He grinned. "I didn't."

"Aren't you going to tell me now?" I implored.

He shook his head. "No. You will just have to wait and see."

As the plane landed on the runway, I peeked out the window, trying to get a glimpse of the area around the airport. I know we had flown over the ocean for a while, which is when I had elected to sleep since I was terrified of it, but when I had woken up we were over dry land again. I couldn't see much past the long line of buildings and glaring lights of the airport.

A guard carried both Maxon's and my own luggage off the plane. No photographers followed us, only a handful of guards. We hopped into the little black car that was waiting for us, Maxon and I snuggling in the back seat. The driver took off, taking a back road that twisted through thick trees and scarce moonlight. During the long ride, Maxon continued to play with my hair and whisper things in my ear that made my face blush crimson. A few times the guard sitting across from us raised an eyebrow and his lips twitched.

Then without warning, the trees parted and we came upon a large house. It was lit from the first to the third floor, illuminating the rushing waterfall and bridge the car drove over. It was almost completely glass – probably bulletproof – from top to bottom, and what wasn't glass was white, detailed woodwork that reminded me of the pretty yellow house that Maxon had purchased for my family, although it was on a much grander scale. I pressed my nose up against the window, my jaw dropping in awe. Maxon chuckled beside me.

As the car rolled to a stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door. I heard Maxon sigh as I jumped out of the car, my eyes growing wide.

"Do you like it?" he asked. I looked up into his face. He was always so worried I wouldn't like what he gave to me. When would he learn I cherished everything, no matter how small?

"Of course I love it," I replied, wrapping my arms around his waist.

He smiled, pleased with my affection. "Then shall we?" he inquired, tangling his fingers in mine as we made our way up the steps.

It was clear that the first floor was meant for the guards. There was an understated kitchen to the left and several expensive looking bunks to the right, with a large living area in the middle. Even though they were here to protect us, they were on their own vacation of sorts.

Leaving the guards _oohing_ and _ahhing_ behind us, Maxon led me up the stairs to the next floor. Where the kitchen was on the first floor was a much more extravagant one on the second. I smiled, wondering who was going to be cooking for us in such a kitchen. I had a feeling it would be me, seeing as we didn't bring any of the kitchen staff with us.

There was also a small living area right in the middle of the floor plan, a huge fireplace in the corner as well as a television that was bigger than one wall in my old house in Carolina. Maxon didn't leave me much time to see more than that as he pulled me up the last flight of stairs.

The third and final floor opened up to a large bedroom. The entire floor consisted of a small area that also had a fireplace, but no television, and back against the far wall was a large, canopy style bed. I couldn't help but notice there was only _one_ bed.

My heart beat faster, my eyes unable to take in anything else. Maxon brushed his fingers across my shoulder. I turned to face him.

"Do you want to freshen up? There is a bathroom back that way," he said, pointing to the right side of the room. "Or are you hungry? I can get us something to eat," he offered.

My anxiety quelled as I pictured that. "I was just wondering who was going to cook for us," I said slyly, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. "I had food premade for us. I know it's not as good as fresh food, but I can use a microwave," he insisted.

I laughed. "I can cook, too, you know."

He grinned. "Well it's my lucky day then. I knew there was a reason I married you," he teased.

I gave him a swat before digging out a small bag that Mary had packed for me with face wash and some other toiletries. When Maxon went back down to the second floor, I padded to the bathroom and washed my face and pulled the pins out of my hair. I changed into my silk pajama shorts and a loose top.

When I walked back out, my heart nearly stopped. Maxon was in nothing but a soft white robe – or at least that's what it looked like, with the rest of his clothes neatly stacked on a chair.

I took a deep breath and marched over to the sofa as he stoked a fire.

"So, find anything good in the fridge?" I asked. My voice came out squeakier than I thought possible.

Maxon looked at me strangely for a moment. "Yes, I brought up a fruit arrangement they left on the top shelf." He nodded to a side table.

I had almost mistaken it for a flower basket, but each intricate piece was made entirely of fruit. I grabbed a stick with melons and strawberries cut into rose petals at the top and began to nibble. Maxon joined me, grabbing a large pineapple spear.

"So, have you figured out where we are yet?" Maxon said. There was an edge to his voice I couldn't quite decipher.

"A house?" I guessed cheekily.

"No, silly, we're in Hawaii." He smiled happily.

I had heard most of Hawaii had been overtaken by tsunamis decades ago, but I didn't know it was still habitable. I liked the climate though – it was warm and welcoming, seemingly almost untouched by people.

"I love it," I said, swallowing a strawberry before leaning in to give Maxon a kiss. He kissed me back, but I could tell by the slowness of it that there was something going on inside his head. I could almost hear the wheels turning.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, barely a breath from his lips.

"Nothing," he murmured, pulling away slightly to take another bite of his pineapple.

As he rubbed slow circles into the back of my hand with his thumb, I studied his face, trained carefully away from me.

Then it hit me. As excited as Maxon and I were to have the freedom to be together in all the ways we wanted to, I could tell that the stresses and strains of his responsibilities – or obligations to produce an heir – were boring down on him. He was _nervous_.

I thought back to the night that I had tried to seduce Maxon with my too revealing dress. Even then, though he was hiding his laughter from me, his kisses had been cautious and slow. Then when we had almost gone too far the night he told me I was the one he wanted to marry in my old bedroom back at the palace, it had taken some time to get him into the passionate state that he was in, and even then, his mind was so easily taken by the sound of a crash in the hall. His nerves were always on edge, and if I wanted my honeymoon to be a success, I was going to have to make sure he wasn't able to concentrate on anything else.

"Maxon?" I said sweetly, putting my plan into action. I knew he would see what I was doing almost immediately, but I also knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him, and he wouldn't deny me anything.

"Hmmm?" he said, still chewing on a chunk of pineapple.

"Will you take off my necklace for me? I don't like to sleep with it on," I said, turning so I was sitting on my heels.

I heard him swallow hard as I moved my hair out of the way. I silently thanked Mary for her choice in pajamas – the loose shirt was only held by a bow in the back, a satin ribbon that connected the fabric in the middle. The rest of my back was exposed.

Maxon's fingers shook as he took off the necklace. I caught it as it fell down my neck and over my collarbone. Before I had a chance to move, I felt Maxon's fingers trail down my back softly, stopping where the satin ribbon lay on my spine.

I smiled as his breath touched the nape of my neck, hesitating. I stayed still, knowing that his nerves would subside with only a few more touches. His lips met my skin, and I sighed, letting him know I was happy with the touch. His fingers tugged on the ribbon, and cool air fell on my exposed back. Maxon's lips trailed down my spine, stopping in the middle of my back as his hands traced my sides. I giggled and squirmed a little as his fingers met my ribs. I felt his smile on my skin, but he didn't stop.

I reached out and let the necklace drop from my palm to the table beside us, and as I did so, he pushed the fabric off my shoulders and it fell forward. I let the sleeves fall through my hands.

It was my turn to be nervous, and though I wasn't facing him, I was acutely aware of how much skin was now exposed.

I felt the cushion behind me bounce a little as Maxon shifted his weight. I glanced behind me, just looking over my shoulder. He was standing now, facing me. His brown eyes studied me, and as they locked with mine, he reached for the sash at his waist and untied it, letting the robe drop to the floor.

The rest was almost a blur, although at every touch, every nerve in my body felt it and craved more. As I turned to face him, I felt no shame, wanting every part of me to be bared to him as he was to me. The feel of all his skin against mine thrilled me, and in the moments where he was gone, I ached at his absence.

In the moments where we lay still in each other's arms, I would trace the scars on his back, sometimes trailing kisses across his shoulders and spine as he had with me. He would run his fingers across my collarbone, place kisses underneath my jaw, and sometimes hold me tightly as he stared into my eyes. Those were the times that I couldn't look away, my heart soaking in his love for me.

As the sun started to rise, making the sky gray, for the first time we didn't separate. We didn't have to – I could stay with him and trace the features on his face, outlining the shape of his lips and cheeks. He didn't jump at the sight of the sun; instead he closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of my fingers on his skin, his heart beating in time against mine.


	2. The Singers

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**A.R. Darcangelo**

The Queen

One Shot: The Singers

Although my family had moved to the little yellow house Maxon had bought for them several months ago, this was the first time Maxon and I were visiting together as a married couple. Maxon had never seen my family outside of the palace before, and I could sense his excitement as we rode along the streets of Angeles to the little house.

I almost envied my family and their new little home. I loved the palace, but the beautiful house was just as warm and welcoming as my home in Carolina had been. It made me miss being with my family, though they visited often. The only person I would miss more if I was with them was Maxon, so leaving the palace wasn't an option.

I squeezed Maxon's hand as we rolled up to the house. I could smell the lasagna wafting through the kitchen window and through the car as I opened the door. Maxon had brought his camera with him, reminding me of the letter he had written to me not so long ago. It almost felt like the two of us were fives, coming home from a long day at work, ready to eat dinner with my family and then snuggle on the couch afterward.

Maxon's lips brushed my cheek softly and I gazed up at him.

I knew as I looked at his eyes he was thinking the same things. About a life away from the palace with me, both fives but freely loving each other without the chaos that came with being royalty.

I reached up on my tiptoes, kissing him lightly on the lips. "Are you ready for your first Singer family dinner?"

He smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Schreave. I have been looking forward to it all week." He pulled his camera up with his free hand and snapped a quick picture of my smiling face.

"Hey, none of that," I complained.

"Why not?" he asked, tucking a strand of my fiery red hair behind my ear. "This is what it'd be like, if I wasn't the prince."

I smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. "If you weren't the prince, the country wouldn't be where it is today. I wouldn't change a thing."

It was true. The sevens had finally been merged into the sixth caste. It was only going to get harder from there, but now the sixes, sevens, and eights were all the same. No numbers – well, I suppose they were all considered sixes, but the job opportunities that arose from that had been incredibly beneficial to not only the economy, but the number of homeless and starving people in the country. For those who did not yet have jobs, homeless shelters had been erected, and Maxon and I had even visited one a few days ago, raising hope and showing the people that things were really going to change.

As Maxon and I walked hand in hand to my family's front door, I couldn't help the warm feeling rushing through my veins. I had everything I could've ever hoped for, but in ways I didn't know I wanted them.

A little redhead popped through the crack in the front door.

"America!" May yelled, rushing through the door to give me a hug. Instead of wrapping her arms just around me, she threw one arm around my waist and another around Maxon's, squishing us all together.

Maxon smiled at me over the top of May's head. I kissed her temple before ruffling her hair. She bounced away, opening the door wide for us.

The Singer house was a new and improved version of what it was before. There was new furniture, but the same small silverware collection my mother had inherited from her mother was still set at the dining room table, and a picture my dad had painted was still hanging on the wall closest to the front door.

"Did your dad paint that?" Maxon asked, following my eyes.

"Yes," I said, smiling sadly. Had he really been gone for almost a year?

"America!" my mother quipped, hurrying over to Maxon and I in the most ladylike fashion she could muster. I tore my eyes away from the painting.

"Hi, Mom," I said, hugging her lightly.

"Mrs. Singer," Maxon said, bowing over my mom's hand and giving her knuckles a quick peck.

My mom blushed a little and showed us to the table, asking us to take our seats. When I offered to help my mom serve dinner, she shooed me away, insisting that queens don't help serve dinner.

As Gerard and May skipped to the table, followed by Kenna and Astra, who was now crawling and walking on her own, Maxon easily fell into the conversation, discussing soccer practice with Gerard and promising him a game the next time we came over, and complimenting May on her new pretty dress Mary had made for her birthday.

After dinner, we all settled down in the living room with strawberry tarts, a treat Maxon had sent over without me knowing. He even had the nerve to see if May would cry over the tart, and I swatted at him as he laughed. My mom turned on a comedic drama, something both Maxon and I could agree on. We cuddled on the couch, his arms around my shoulders and mine around his waist.

At some point, Gerard fell asleep and May carried him to his room while Kenna excused herself when the baby had finally finished her bottle. My mom picked up our empty strawberry tart plates and never came back.

"So, is it everything you hoped it would be?" I inquired, knowing it had been a rather simple evening – nothing like the nights planned at the palace.

Maxon grinned. "Are you kidding? Even better than I hoped. It was just so… normal."

"Normal?"

"Yeah. I don't think I ever had a meal like that with my parents." A sadness that I couldn't take away came to his eyes.

I moved closer to him. "You still have a family, you know," I whispered.

The sadness faded and a new emotion came to Maxon's eyes. "How did I get so lucky?"

I smiled impishly. "I don't know. I guess I felt sorry for you and decided to give you a shot."

His mouth popped open in mock offense, and he immediately started to tickle me in all the spots he knew I was the most helpless against his attacks.

"Maxon, stop! Please!" I begged, giggling as quietly as I could. I buried my head in his shoulder, my laughter more muffled against him.

He chuckled, holding me close even after he stopped tickling me. "So, what now, my dear?"

I gave him a long look. "Hmmm, I don't know. Do we have to go home?"

He smiled, letting it touch his eyes. "Aren't we home already?"

He was right – home was wherever your family was. Even though my dad wasn't here, pieces of him still touched every part of the house. Maxon was part of my family now, too, and having him here in my family's home made it feel more real than it ever had.

I let my fingers tangle in his soft honey blonde hair. His smile grew wide.

I returned his smile, pulling him close.

"Yes, we're home."


End file.
